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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24031174">Bedtime</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenindoubtblamekirk/pseuds/whenindoubtblamekirk'>whenindoubtblamekirk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Oregon Files - Clive Cussler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:59:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24031174</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenindoubtblamekirk/pseuds/whenindoubtblamekirk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Essentially, Y/N is sleep deprived and Juan and the others take care of her. Nothing bad, just fluff!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bedtime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You should go to sleep.” Juan’s voice cuts through the fog that fills your mind. You rub your eyes, looking up at him standing in the doorway to the Op Center. </p><p>“Mm fine,” you mutter, turning back to your work. The white screen of your laptop is blindingly bright, making your headache worse. </p><p>Juan sighs, crossing the room to sit in a chair across from you. His blue eyes study you with concern. </p><p>“How long has it been since you’ve slept? Hell, according to Maurice you haven’t been eating, either.”</p><p>You bite your lip, ignoring the question. For the past few days, you’ve been acting strangely, and the crew has definitely noticed. Though you’ve done your best to avoid Huxley, you knew it was only a matter of time before someone was sent to talk to you. Apparently, Juan has decided to come himself. </p><p>“Mm fine,” you repeat, though you know it’s far from the truth. Maurice unfortunately was right. You haven’t eaten in a few days, and sleep has been nonexistent. You blink a few times to get your eyes to focus again as the letters on the screen blur. </p><p>“Y/N,” Juan’s voice is soft. He gets up from the chair and presses the power button on your computer. It blinks off, leaving your reflection staring back at you. No wonder they’ve been worried. The plum-colored smudges under your eyes are stark against your pale skin. “Look at me.”</p><p>You know resisting is futile. It seems to take all of your energy, but eventually you look up at him. Even standing, Juan has always towered over you, and sitting makes you feel like a toddler compared to him. </p><p>His face is etched with concern. “That’s it. Time for bed.” Though his voice is gentle, there’s a firmness behind it. </p><p>You shake your head and the room spins a little, even after you know you’ve stopped moving. You look up at him with bleary eyes. “I’ve got stuff to do.”</p><p>He crosses his arms. “That’s not true and you know it. We just finished a job, and besides, I’m your boss, so I know for a fact you have nothing to do.”</p><p>You frown, defeated. The lie was pointless anyways. As Chairman, Juan has full access to everyone’s medical file and has known about your struggle with depression for years. Eventually, the crew began to take notice. Thankfully, they’ve been supportive and helped you through your episodes in whatever way they can. Being the youngest by at least ten years, they’ve come to be especially protective of you. </p><p>Juan kneels down in front of you, his eyes level with yours. “Y/N, it’s time for bed.”</p><p>You spin in the chair, turning away from him.</p><p>His shoulders slump as he runs a hand through his hair. “At least drink something.” He offers you a glass of water. You resist the urge to lick your dry lips. </p><p>Seeing your defenses weaking, he lifts the glass closer. “Y/N…”</p><p>You sigh. “Juan, I’m <em> fine. </em>”</p><p>His blue eyes lock with yours. “Prove it.”</p><p>Digging the heels of your hands into your eyes, you try to rub away the fatigue. After a second, you take the glass. </p><p>When you hesitate, Juan looks at you expectantly.</p><p>Your hand trembles a little as you take a few sips. Avoiding eye contact with Juan, you return the glass. </p><p>“Thank you,” Juan says softly, putting the glass on the desk in front of you. </p><p>You nod ever so slightly. “Can I get back to work now?”</p><p>Juan doesn’t say anything. </p><p>You’re about to ask again when the room begins to spin. You sway a little as you struggle to get out of your chair, your arms feeling like rubber. You glance down at the glass, then back up at Juan. </p><p>“What’d you do?”</p><p>He steps towards you, pulling you into a hug as your legs give out. Your vision begins to tunnel as your limbs go weak.</p><p>“Just a little something to help you sleep, that’s all.”</p><p>You struggle against him, but his strong grip keeps you in place. Gently, he scoops you up into his arms. </p><p>“Lemme go…” you mumble as he throws you over his shoulder. You grip at the fabric of his shirt as he begins to carry you out of the Op Center. </p><p>A new voice cuts through the darkness. </p><p>It’s Max. “Got her?”</p><p>You feel Juan nod. It takes all of your energy, but you barely lift your head. The senior crew is crowded outside the door, looking up at you. You meet their gazes with bleary eyes. </p><p>Linc comes up next to you. “Time for bed, Y/N.”</p><p>“Lemme go…” you repeat, but everyone shakes their heads. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eric, followed by  Murph, carrying your laptop out of the Op Center, no doubt confiscating it under Juan’s orders.</p><p>“Sorry, Y/N, but you need sleep.” From up on Juan’s shoulder, Linda looks even tinier than usual. </p><p>You bounce slightly as Juan carries you to your cabin. Huxley waits at the door and opens it as you approach. </p><p>“Put me… down…” you whine, your words slurred.</p><p>“No can do, Y/N,” Juan says softly. He ducks slightly as he enters your room, careful not to hit your head against the doorframe. </p><p>Huxley slips past him and pulls back the covers to your bed. Juan gently lowers you onto it. </p><p>Your fingers grip his shirt. “I don’t… want to…” </p><p>His hands come up over yours and he slowly pries your fingers off, one by one. “You need sleep, Y/N.” </p><p>Black eats away at the edges of your eyesight. Huxley smiles down at you warmly, pulling the covers up around you. The warmth is soothing and you take a deep breath.</p><p>Juan kisses your forehead. “It’s okay, Y/N. Go to sleep.”</p><p> Your eyes go out of focus as they flutter closed. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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